


Shapes

by Ladybug_21



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Love in the Time of Corona, Quarantine Haircuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybug_21/pseuds/Ladybug_21
Summary: "What's the worst that can happen?!"  Jocelyn emitted a snort of laughter.  "She says, handing a pair of scissors to the woman who's slowly going blind!"Maggie talks Jocelyn into trimming her hair, mid-pandemic.
Relationships: Jocelyn Knight/Maggie Radcliffe
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	Shapes

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer, I own no rights to the _Broadchurch_ fandom, etc.

"Have you gone mad?" Jocelyn asked, her eyebrows raising.

"I'll be arriving there shortly, if my hair continues to be as shaggy as it's been!" Maggie thrust the scissors in her hand out a little closer to Jocelyn, who drew back half a step, shaking her head bemusedly. " _Really_ , Jocelyn, what's the worst that can happen?"

"What's the worst that can happen?!" Jocelyn emitted a snort of laughter. "She says, handing a pair of scissors to the woman who's slowly going blind! No, thank you, unless you're willing to risk a Vincent Van Gogh look that'll last long past the end of the pandemic."

"You're not _nearly_ that blind, petal," Maggie insisted, exasperated. "And you certainly can still distinguish one shape from another well enough to avoid any accidental ear-chopping."

"Oh? And how exactly would you know?"

"I live with you, remember?" Maggie winked. "You can still read the use-by date on a carton of milk, if you squint hard enough and hold slightly it off to the side."

Jocelyn made as if to swat good-naturedly at Maggie, then remembered that Maggie was holding a pair of scissors and converted the swat into a half-hearted flail of one hand.

"Well, fine, even if I somehow manage to avoid impaling you, I can guarantee that it won't be a very good look at all," she argued.

"I certainly don't care!" scoffed Maggie. "As long as it stops tickling the back of my neck, I'll take it. Besides, if it's a mess, I can just wear a hat over it, if I have to go out. You're the only one who'll have to put up with it, and as its cause, you won't be entitled to laugh."

Jocelyn hummed her agreement, smiling at Maggie. In all fairness, the journalist could chop her hair into the most ridiculous pattern imaginable, and Jocelyn would still think that she was the most stunning woman on the planet. And Maggie knew this perfectly well, which no doubt was the only reason she was willing to entrust Jocelyn with this task, anyway.

"You _could_ always just go into town and get your hair cut," she tried. "They say it's perfectly safe to have it done outside, so long as everyone is wearing masks..."

But Maggie had twisted her mouth into a stubborn little frown, and Jocelyn knew that there was no pushing back against that particular expression. Really, Maggie was being kinder than she had any need to be, in sacrificing a bit of vanity for the sake of keeping them both safe. Jocelyn strongly suspected that, if she still lived by herself, Maggie would have no qualms getting her hair cut professionally, and that she was only taking extra precautions for Jocelyn's sake.

"All right, fine," she sighed, taking the scissors from Maggie. "But you're not allowed to tease me, either, for making a mess of things."

Satisfied, Maggie sat down in the chair that she'd placed in the centre of a sheet, her hands folded in her lap expectantly. Jocelyn stood behind her, quite unsure of what to do. Maggie's hair was lighter and straighter and sleeker than Jocelyn's, its texture beautifully familiar by now. Jocelyn ran her fingers through its smoothness, weighing how much she dared cut. A pity that Maggie had had all her hair chopped off just before the pandemic hit, and that she wasn't ready to let it grow back out again just yet. Jocelyn loved Maggie's hair at any length, and she _so_ loved how Maggie looked with short hair when it was shaped nicely, but the barrister was at a complete and utter loss as to how to accomplish such a look.

From her chair, Maggie tsked impatiently.

"Like I always say, petal, it doesn't need to be anywhere near perfect to still be more than enough," she reminded Jocelyn.

And Jocelyn, who had heard as much from Maggie in any number of situations, carefully placed one hand between the nape of Maggie's neck and the cold metal of the scissors, exhaled a deep breath, and took a hesitant snip.

Somehow, from there it was easy. Jocelyn had no experience cutting hair, but she knew the feeling of Maggie's between her fingers, would know instinctively how it should layer and fall and lie, even if she truly were as blind as she had claimed to be. Knowledge didn't translate automatically into performance, of course, but Jocelyn worked slowly and cautiously. Maggie sat still and patient and smiling, as the barrister snipped and reassessed, a small frown of concentration on her face as she let her hands guide what she didn't completely trust her eyes to judge.

For not knowing what she was doing, Jocelyn was very pleasantly surprised with how things turned out. No, it wasn't a perfect cut, but Maggie seemed delighted as she turned her face this way and that in the mirror.

"Have I ever mentioned how amazed I am that you're able to do more or less everything so effortlessly?" she asked Jocelyn. "If you ever decide to give up lawyering, you'd make a remarkably good hairdresser."

"Oh, stop," laughed Jocelyn, embarrassed.

"I'm serious!" Maggie ran her fingers through her own hair, admiring how Jocelyn had somehow made the layers work as they should. "Look, you've managed to get the shape just right here..."

Jocelyn too reached out to stroke Maggie's hair, their fingers meeting and entwining. The shapes in the mirror were an indistinct blur of half-seen outlines and fuzzy colours, but Jocelyn could somehow sense that Maggie's reflection was smiling back at hers.

"Only for you, Maggie," she explained. "Only because I know you and your hair well enough. And only because I know you'll still love me, even if I botch things horribly. But if this is enough for you, then it's certainly enough for me."

And she brushed a few errant snippets of hair from Maggie's forehead so she could kiss the journalist's brow, before going to put the scissors away.


End file.
